Three Stages of Letting Go
by sherlockholmes-ed
Summary: Sherlock decides to go to his brother after his disastrous reunion with John Watson in a restaurant. (The Empty Hearse)


Three Stages of Letting Go

_Stage 1: Realisation_

Mycroft was not the kind of person that could be easily surprised. But of all things he was prepared for to be on his doorstep an hour before midnight, he did not expect it to be Sherlock, his younger brother. With a bleeding nose.

He reacted in a way that he was most familiar with, 'I presume that your reunion with John Watson went just as planned.' Sarcasm had always been a close friend of his.

'The guest room's ready,' Mycroft stated, striding back into the sitting room. Sherlock was there, curled up on the couch, staring into space. It took him moments to register what Mycroft had just said. After a few confounded blinks, he rose mechanically from the couch and went to his room. Mycroft could not help but stare after him and wonder what exactly John Watson had done to his little brother. It had been a long time ever since he had seen Sherlock look so broken.

Mycroft was on his way to bed, running through the various appointments he had to attend the next day in his head, when the sound of soft sobbing stopped him in his tracks. Gently, he opened the door to the guest room.

Sherlock was crying in his sleep. He tossed and turned restlessly in his bed as tears ran down his cheeks. 'John,' he murmured, as Mycroft stiffen. 'John, John, John.' The thrashing continued for some time, as Mycroft stood by helplessly, not knowing what to do.

Sherlock woke with a start after banging his head none too gently on the headboard of the bed. Sitting up, he buried his face in his hands, the information he acquired this evening slamming against the insides of his head. Things were never going to be the same. John no longer needed him. Along with the realisation came the pain, the bundle of emotions that he had tried and failed to oppress, those that he had attempted not to feel but felt all the same. He also noticed that he was not quite alone.

Of course, Sherlock mused as he looked up and met the gaze of his older brother. Mycroft. Who else could it be? He thought, pushing down the disappointment thrumming in the depths of his stomach. He felt sick.

Mycroft rifled through his brain as he made eye contact with Sherlock, as he asked the question that he had been longing to ask for the entire evening. 'Why me? 'It was a known fact between the both of them- that Sherlock constantly felt intimidated by Mycroft, that he would never dare to ask Mycroft for help, for that would mean a display of weakness for Sherlock. 'You are the only person who had ever seen me cry,' Sherlock stated. 'And you're probably the one who knows me best, who knows what I need.' At that, Sherlock shifted over on his bed and patted the spot next to him. 'Mycroft?' He asked uncertainly.

He knew that was what a majority of siblings do. Physical intimacy as a form of comfort. But he and Sherlock had never been a part of that majority. It was such a human thing to do, hugging. It was so emotional and fragile and exposing. He wondered where Sherlock got the idea on matters of cuddling siblings. Most probably from John's recounts of his childhood. Every bit of him screamed at him to say no, to go back to his room, but it was his little brother who was concerned. Sherlock needed him. And so he sidled reluctantly over to Sherlock's side, and allowed his little brother to hold onto him and cry into his new silk pyjamas.

'He's getting married,' Sherlock choked out in between sobs.

'How many times must I tell you, Sherlock? Caring is not an advantage, and it never will be.'

'He's getting married, Mycroft, he's getting married,' Sherlock murmured, almost as if in daze.

'You're starting to sound like a half- wit now, repeating the same sentence over and over again. What is it that you're trying to tell me?'

'He's getting married, Mycroft, don't you get it?' Sherlock was shouting now. Mycroft wondered what exactly it was that he was getting so perplexed over...

...Oh.

'Simple. You tell him you love him face- to- face. What's so complex about that?

'I can't, Myc, and I shouldn't do so. Two years ago, I ruined his life. He's better off without me. I should have expected this. I should have known. Who was I to expect that I could simply pop back into his life and that it would all be what it once was before?'

'It's going to be all right, Sherlock, it will.'

Yet the both of them knew that it wasn't, in any sense, all right, nor would things be all right ever again.

And so Mycroft made an awkward attempt at hugging and comforting his little brother as Sherlock cried himself to sleep.


End file.
